


Black to Red

by athan



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: 5 Times, Angst and Humor, Every ship every which way, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Getting Together, Misunderstandings, Multi, Not Actually Unrequited Love, OT4, Polyamory, Polyship Roadtrip, Sexual Content, established threesome, prompto gets some and you can't convince me otherwise
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-22
Updated: 2020-07-25
Packaged: 2021-03-04 19:20:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,959
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25451536
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/athan/pseuds/athan
Summary: It’s just. Prompto couldn’t possibly be implying what Noctis thinks he’s implying, right?Because Prom flirting: expected. But Prom having SEX? With a dude, no less?Dino smirks. “He was the best lay of my life. Last time we met I couldn’t walk in the morning- felt only fitting to pay for lunch, yeah?”Gladio snorts water out of his nose. Ignis lapses into a sudden coughing fit, bending over slightly in a futile effort to regain his breath.Noctis wants to crawl inside a hole and sleep until the world is back to normal, and his best friend is innocent and inexperienced and has not nailed Dino into next Thursday, apparently.From somewhere to his right, Prompto whimpers into his arms.-----Or, five times they were surprised by Prompto's skill in the bedroom, and one time they absolutely weren't.(Established-Gladio/Ignis/Noct, eventual OT4)
Relationships: Gladiolus Amicitia/Prompto Argentum/Noctis Lucis Caelum/Ignis Scientia, Prompto Argentum/Other(s)
Comments: 36
Kudos: 122





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> this is my first fic for these four, so I do apologize if they're ooc in any way :/
> 
> also, this entire beast was spawned from the song black to red by Florence & the machine, so go give that a listen if u want!

See, Prompto’s a cool guy. Tough skin, for all that Gladio can snap him like a twig; but he’d listened to hushed accusations and not-so-hushed barbs for years, simply because of the color of his hair. Water under the bridge and all that, but personally he thinks life’s too short for the grudge bullshit. Let people live, don’t judge, and go after what you want, because there isn’t enough time not to. 

In that sense, he’s also a bit of a hypocrite. 

Mostly because the one thing that he wants the most- more than his camera, which took months to save up for, and more than the part time job that let him keep going to the arcade with Noct- will never happen, even if he had the guts to try and get it.

But that’s just how the world works, right? 

Ha. 

Besides, the… _thing_ wasn’t new- most days he could squash it down until even he started to believe nothing was wrong. He knew that repressing it was probably unhealthy, but having at least a little peace- even denial-induced- was so much easier than the opposite. 

Hope was a bit of a double-edged sword, ya know? There was no better feeling than that tiny spark of _Maybe_ , burrowing deep into your heart and staying there. Similarly, there was nothing worse than when it inevitably got swiped out from under you. 

But during those early days, when he still had that little spark, life kinda _sucked_ . There was so much more to freak out over when you thought anything you did actually mattered. Like when he worried that by looking too long at the way Noctis slurped cheeto dust from his fingers, he would suddenly turn and _know._ He’d get that look on his face when he deals with paparazzi, a mix of disgust and pity and say, _“No. You’re not allowed to think of me that way, and now you’ve ruined our friendship. Get out.”_

Or that his life would be over when Gladio caught him on the tail end of a run, and made the executive decision that they would jog together now, and poor adolescent Prompto had to deal with gravity, and sweat, and both of those things applied to a shirtless Gladio. He didn’t know whether to thank the Six or curse them. It was only later, when he found Ignis with both sleeves pulled back and gloves long gone as he kneaded firmly into bread dough, that Prompto knew it was definitely the latter. 

Over time, though, the hope went away. He learned to keep his reactions down, so he didn’t lose composure as a sleep-ruffled Ignis carefully leaned over to wake the prince, saying something about _an early meeting, one we are not able to miss,_ and the fond smile that crinkled the corners of his eyes. Or when Gladio took him and Noctis out for ice cream because Prompto got his first B in Algebra, paying even if he couldn’t eat it because of his training diet. They saw him as that geeky kid who could kick ass at DDR and stayed up late playing video games, who trailed after Noctis like a lost puppy and probably talked too much. Nothing more. 

It became a fact of life, really. The sun rises in the east, sets in the west, and his three friends were his sexual awakening. That, and he was undeniably, irrevocably in love with them. 

And listen, Prompto knows infatuation. He’s a people-pleaser, an attention whore, and a _romantic-_ if a pretty girl at the grocery store smiles at him and says, “Excuse me,” he’s halfway towards imagining their wedding. 

So this isn’t just some small flame, or even a good-sized torch. No, this shit is a _wildfire,_ and on that day- the day they all three came up to him, with pink cheeks and clasped hands, bearing news of a different kind- he sat back and let himself burn. 

Prompto’s a chill guy, but he learned early on that sometimes the pieces do fit together- just not for you. A better person would have said something. Would have come clean then, and removed themselves from the equation entirely. But Prompto is selfish, and he would rather bear his wrist on live TV than lose his friends. 

So he picked up the pieces, hid behind his door begging a week off for the flu, and put himself together again. 

The sun rises, the sun sets. Noctis beats them all at Smash, Ignis pleasantly wreaks havoc with a blue shell, and Gladio chucks the Wii remote across the room. Behind a grin and a fist bump, Prompto _burns._

They’re passing a club on the way back from the Arcade, and he feels a prickling sensation on the back of his neck. The woman is older than them, probably in her early twenties. Dark hair and light blue eyes, irreverence clear in her posture as she takes a drag of her cigarette. She catches his eye, and gives him a blatant once over. 

Oh, Promto thinks. 

_Oh._

He still burns, but there are other ways to deal with a fire than by simply putting it out. 

  
  


───────── 1. ─────────

  
  


“Prince! Hey, Prince! Over here!” 

Noctis fights the urge to roll his eyes, but only just. They’re only passing through Galdin for a momentary (fishing) break, and Dino isn’t a _bad_ guy, but… 

“Any new info on the most eligible bachelor this side of Eos? Speaking of, how’s Princess Luna?” 

Yeah. That. 

“Just- what do you want?” He can hear Gladio snort from behind, and makes a mental note to hide all the energy bars. 

“Just the usual! Some jewels, and a yard of copper wire for my beautiful creations. I’d even pay you back for your services!” Yeah, right. With another crappy bracelet, no doubt. 

“And you couldn’t have, I don’t know- gotten them yourself?” he says, with enough bite that Ignis gives a warning cough. 

Dino’s grin widens. 

_Damn it._ He knew they couldn’t say shit, and probably wasn’t above putting their location in tomorrow’s tabloids if they hit him upside the head. 

Something in his expression must’ve translated, because suddenly Prompto’s slipping in front, all charming smiles and open arms. 

“Heya, Dino! It’s been a while, huh? How’s it going?” 

“Prom, don’t-” Noctis starts, but to his surprise Dino’s smirk turns genuine. 

“Oh, the same as usual. Beautiful beaches, tourists, and enough semi-important people doing dumb shit to make the world go ‘round. My world, anyway,” he laughs, and is that a _wink?_ Prompto grins back, wide and unrestrained, and Dino leans in ever-so-slightly, eyes… hungry. 

What the fuck. 

A backwards glance shows that he’s not the only one confused, but then Prompto sits down besides Dino. The man then leans in even more and- _why are their ankles touching._

He didn’t think the reporter would want anything to do with someone who wasn’t rich, famous, or both, and yet. Dino looks like a cat before a warbling finch, listening to Prom chatter on about Chocobos and killer bees and polaroids with the utmost of interest, saying something about how _Chocobo feathers have nothing on your hair, it’s just too soft-_ and Noctis stops.

Allows his brain to reboot, and looks again.

Dino’s _flirting_. 

“What the hell,” Gladio mutters, and the fact that Ignis doesn’t argue says enough of his agreement. As he watches, Dino lets out an obnoxious yawn, one arm coming to rest- 

No. 

_No_ , absolutely not. He is _not_ watching Dino hitting on Prompto _,_ of all people- who he’d seen trip over his own feet to avoid stepping on a worm on the sidewalk- with the oldest trick in the book. It’s a shitty move in the first place, but even more so on someone who is obviously unreceptive- 

Prom shifts imperceptibly closer, smile too-wide and freckles stark upon his red cheeks, and- 

He was flirting back. 

What the _fuck._

Noctis must’ve said it aloud, because Prompto jerks, almost as if he’d forgotten that they were there. Dino merely reclines further, not even moving his godsdamned arm. 

“What,” he gestures helplessly, “Is even going _on_ -” 

“Ah! Sorry, I can’t believe I forgot.” Dino digs through his pockets before coming up with a Sharpie and a folded map, making a few marks before holding it out. “You’ll be needing that for the jewels!” 

When he makes no indication of doing anything but staring bewilderedly, Ignis steps in with smooth indifference.  
“As much as we enjoy assisting your hobby, I’m afraid we must be on our way. Our destination is in the opposite direction, and we don’t have time to make a detour.” 

Dino’s silent, but after a second waves down one of the hustling staff. “A table, please, for my friends here.” 

“I do apologize, but we really must be leaving-” 

With a quick glance at Prompto, Dino grins. “I can provide compensation. More than the usual, anyway.” 

A single raised eyebrow is all the response he gets, and the reporter heaves an overly dramatic sigh. “I heard mention you’re in the market for magical weapons stashed in tombs, am I right?” 

Noctis snaps out of it just in time to see Gladio’s face darken, quelled only by Ignis’ outstretched hand. 

“Go on.” 

“There’ve been rumors of another one that I am more than happy to divulge under the right circumstances.” He stares pointedly at the map, and something about his face makes Noctis want to punch him. 

“And I suppose you’re completely confident of these rumors’ legitimacy?” 

Dino clicks his tongue, winking. “It’s my job, hon.” 

If Dino ever calls Ignis ‘hon’ again, Noctis is definitely going to punch him. And, if the look on Gladio’s face is any indication, he wouldn’t be the first. 

Prom laughs nervously, running a hand up Dino’s arm and- _batting his eyelashes??_

“I think that we need a bit of time to think it over,” he shoots a quick look to Ignis, who nods. “But the food here is a bit expensive, so… ” 

“It’s no problem. Order what you like, and I’ll foot the bill. It’s all I can do to… repay you.” Something tells him Dino’s not talking about their previous gem hunts, and- yep. He’s giving Prompto the most obvious bedroom eyes Noctis has ever seen, and given that he sleeps between Gladio and Ignis on a regular basis that’s saying something. 

At this point, all eyes are on Prompto. Noctis knows this person, has seen him through milestones big and small, and knows how flustered he gets under _any_ attention, gods forbid they’re attractive. The guy flirts with anything that breathes until the attention is reciprocated, upon which he turns into a stuttering mess. But- 

Prompto laughs, utterly comfortable, and _puts his hand. On Dino’s thigh._

And here is where Noctis apparently _does_ know Prompto, because as a rule, the kid is completely shit at whispering. So when he leans close to Dino’s ear and murmurs, “You’re gonna have to do a lot more than that if you want to make it up to me,” Noctis is not liable for the ripping sounds that come suspiciously from where he was clutching at his jeans. 

It’s just. Prompto couldn’t possibly be implying what he _thinks_ he’s implying, right? Because Prom flirting: expected. But Prom having _sex?_ With a dude, no less?

Ignis coughs delicately, and Gladio looks constipated as he takes a chug of water. 

“Prom,” he croaks, and when did his voice get this hoarse? “What the _fuck_ is going on here.” 

Prompto blinks, looking from them to Dino and back again, having the good grace to look a bit sheepish. 

“I, um-” 

Dino smirks, eyes gleaming in a way that makes Noctis a little scared of what he's going to say next. “He was the best lay of my life. Last time we met he fucked me so hard I couldn’t walk in the morning- felt only fitting to pay for lunch, yeah?” 

Gladio snorts water out of his nose. Ignis lapses into a sudden coughing fit, bending over slightly in a futile effort to regain his breath.

Noctis wants to crawl inside a hole and sleep until the world is back to normal, and his best friend is innocent and inexperienced and has _not_ nailed Dino into next Thursday, apparently. 

From somewhere to his right Prompto’s making sounds like a dying cat, but his higher cognitive functions are checked out- suitcases packed, leaving the hotel, calling for a taxi- so he doesn't register much else. 

Thus, he misses Dino’s speculative glance across all four of them, until comprehension dawns and he looks Prompto straight in the eye and mouths ‘good luck,’ complete with waggling eyebrows. 

Prompto whimpers into his arms.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> here we go ᕕ( ᐛ )ᕗ 
> 
> it earns the mature rating, kids

The second time is hardly as innocuous as the first, for all that it starts innocently. 

The bare bones of camp have been hammered out, but Ignis notes that Prompto is not yet reclining in one of the chairs complaining about sore feet and/or a bad camera angle, and his instinct for trouble ( _“Please don’t call it my ‘spidey sense’.” “Sorry, bro- I can’t tell lies.” “Gladio?” “Sorry, Ig- he’s right on this one.”_ ) perk up in interest. Or apprehension. Most likely both. 

...Ah. 

Upon a quick scan of the haven, Prompto is in fact knee-deep in the surrounding bog, hair tied back in a short ponytail as he roots around dirty pond water. 

“What, might I ask, are you doing?” 

He looks up, and Ignis distantly notes that there are spots of mud just above his cheekbone and eyebrow. Not important. 

“Frogs,” he nods simply, like that explains anything at all. When Ignis says nothing more, he shrugs and goes back to his searching. For what, Ignis doesn’t know, but the fact that he’s doing it at all spells something close to trouble. 

He rubs absently at his temple and tries very hard not to get annoyed. 

He doesn’t dislike Prompto, not at all. At first, years and years ago when burdens were lighter and faces less-creased, he’d _tolerated_ him. The small, sprightly teenager that followed his ward constantly, coerced him into playing video games all night long, and encouraged nightly sprees to the lower city that they still think he doesn’t know about. 

But he was also the first person to make the prince laugh- too loud and without restraint- since the incident that resulted in the massive scar down Gladio’s face. The look in Noctis’ eyes then, as if he was as surprised as Ignis, softened his words whenever Prompto made a mess or stayed too late. 

He supposed it was inevitable, in all honesty. The man had an ability of niggling into one’s heart in the oddest ways possible- making a french fry tower set to topple into Gladio’s salad, being deadly serious whilst taking pictures for tourists, practically crashing the car so as not to hit an injured dog. At this point Ignis could no longer deny that the small weakness had morphed into an undeniable fondness, and he was posing for the occasional picture just as often as he was accepting rejected vegetables onto his plate. 

From the area of the swamp, Prompto yelps. Ignis turns just in time to hear a loud _squelch,_ and witness as both frog and mud fly- on Prompto, on the tent, and right at his face. 

It is only through speed and no little amount of Crownsguard-ingrained reflexes that he manages to avoid adding any protein to the stew, and escapes with dignity mostly intact. 

From between his mud-splattered palms, the frog squirms with a defeated croak. 

In the bog, palms outstretched as if he could take back the damage, Prompto looks small and terrified. It could be because of the giant brown stain that now decorates one side of the tent, or the mud all across his front and down his pants.

Ignis heaves a sigh. 

“You are lucky our dinner was spared, else we would be going hungry for the night.” The same could not be said for his gloves, however. His _white_ gloves. 

Prompto practically trips trying to get out, flinging waders and Noctis’ fishing vest as he does so. “Oh my god, Iggy, I am _so_ sorry-” 

He holds up one (brown) finger, adjusting so that the frog is secured in the other hand.

“It is of no consequence. I’ve gone through worse.” They both have, actually. He nearly shivers at the memory of trying to get the ichor-like Flan substance out of leather breeches. 

“It would be wise to put it in a safe place. Do you have a container of some sort?” Prompto nods, holding out a box that looks far more expensive than anything they would have access to, and the first bud of suspicion is planted in his mind.   
When the creature is safely enclosed, Prompto collapses into his chair with a defeated huff. Ignis gingerly removes both gloves, before regarding the man across him with narrowed eyes. 

“Why were you looking for frogs, Prompto?”

“Oh, you know,” Prom scratches at his head. A small bit of incentive, then. 

“It will require around an hour, perhaps more, to get everything out of my clothes and the tent, and it’s Gladio’s turn to do laundry tomorrow.” 

Prompto blanches. Gladio will persevere through many things; being the King’s Shield and a devoted survivalist demands as much. Laundry, however, is not one of them. It’s a known fact that anyone who pushes the load is asking for a special kind of torture. 

He hesitates. “A… friend asked me to look for some if I was ever in the area, and she knows that we travel.” 

“A friend?” Ignis adjusts his glasses, just so, and gets the satisfaction of seeing Prompto squirm. 

“Yeah, she’s uh, really smart. We… run into each other sometimes?” It comes out more question than answer, and as the pieces fall together Ignis makes a mental note to give Prompto a rundown about intimidation tactics, and how to withstand them successfully. 

“I didn’t know you were so close to Dr. Yeagre,” Ignis hums, letting a bit of his surprise peek through. With Noctis, it wasn’t necessarily unexpected. They both have an affinity for the slimy and wriggling that he doesn’t share, no matter how much he cares for his partner. 

But Prompto? The man who, upon finding a spider in the farthest corner of the hotel room ceiling, wouldn’t come out of the closet for an hour? How he would have anything in common with a woman that wrote her dissertation on the effects of amphibian intestines after death, he’s unsure. 

Ignis receives another one-shoulder shrug in response as Prompto turns to fling his wet socks in the direction of the tent. 

“I dunno, man- I just figured, with us going around all the time I could maybe lend a hand? She asked, and it’s no big deal.” 

But Ignis sees the tightness in his eyes as he plucks at mud-soaked breeches, and the fact that he hasn’t quite relaxed since sitting in the chair. 

Prompto’s soft heart will be the end of him someday, but he supposes that the stew can simmer for the time it will take to walk down to the river. 

“Go clean up, and leave your clothes- I’ll take care of them.” 

“What? But Iggy, no-” 

He waves off any protests, and resolutely does not think about that too-bright, relieved grin, and how terrifyingly close it is to turning _fondness_ into something else. “Go, before Noctis and Gladio get back. Dinner will be done by the time you’ve finished.” 

Alas, just as he hops out of the chair, there’s the telltale crunch of boots on gravel. 

_Ah, well._

Prompto whips around with a pleading expression, but if they’re already here… Those gloves were his favorite pair, after all. 

“Wow, that smells g- what the _fuck_ happened to the tent?!”

The perpetrator in question goes very still, one leg on the ground and staring at Gladio as if his lack of movement will translate to perceived innocence. 

It does not. 

Prompto’s screeches echo across the campsite right alongside furious pounding footsteps, and Noctis watches amusedly until-

“Wait a minute- is that my fishing vest?!” 

Ignis sips his Ebony calmly as another pair of footsteps join the first, and memories of Prompto being mercilessly tickle-noogied chase away any suspicions regarding frogs. 

* * *

  
  
  


The follow-up is roughly a month later, when nonstop hunts and endless battalions of metal soldiers have taken their toll- Noctis sprained his ankle twice, Gladio came down with the flu, and Prompto got caught with a stray bullet that they only narrowly kept from getting infected. Even Ignis must admit that a break is to be had, and Lestallum is as good a place as any. 

Gladio left to check in with Iris and Prompto disappeared a while ago, citing only that he wanted to “check out the vendors.” Ignis fingers the gil in their pouch, and decides that splurging for a night is warranted. 

The usual clerk looks only a little surprised when he asks for two rooms instead of one, but hands the keys over nonetheless. Noctis eyes theirs with no little amount of anticipation, and Ignis can relate. This will be the first time they’ve had a bed that fits all three of them in over six months, and he fully intends to make use of it. 

He won’t lie, being in a relationship with two people while travelling with another presents… difficulties, to say the least. There’s hardly space to fool around in the tent with Prompto, even if he sometimes leaves the campgrounds to ‘take pictures’ for a solid hour or two. Prompto never mentions it afterwards except to show them the pictures in question, and Ignis resolves to cook green curry soup a little more often.

Even so, caravans are a somewhat similar situation- although he’d be lying if he said that they’ve never done anything while sharing the larger end-bed. Picking straws for who gets to pair up in the full is particularly intense, on those nights. 

But here? There’s easily enough room for all of them, and the walls are thick enough so that noise won’t be a constraint. 

He hands the remaining keys over to Noctis, pocketing his own. “Go find Prompto, would you? He’s room 32. Make sure he gets the right one.” 

Nodding, Noct makes his way towards the bustling streets of Lestallum, trying not to seem hurried and utterly failing. Ignis hides his smile behind a gloved hand, ignoring the three beating spots in his heart filled to bursting, and the tiny persistent ache that he refuses to acknowledge as a fourth no matter how much he wants it to be. 

  
  
  


* * *

  
  
  


“Gladio,” Ignis pants, and receives no other acknowledgement than a slight humming around his base. Gladio moves up and back down again in a practiced motion, and he does his best not to tear any holes in the sheets. Noctis grins smugly from where he’s watching on the other end of the bed, finding an easy rhythm around his own cock. 

“You know he’s gonna tease.” 

Yes, he _did_ know, but that didn’t mean- 

Gladio palms his balls, pressing the spot right behind as he just about gags, and Ignis _keens._

“Fuck,” Noctis mumbles, hand moving faster, and Gladio agrees with another vibrating hum. 

Popping off with an obscene line of spit, he moves to straddle Ignis in a smooth motion. 

“Thanks for getting another room, babe.” He hands a condom over to Ignis and pats around for the lube, coating his fingers in a generous amount. When they first started doing _this_ , Ignis wondered how one person could look so incredibly gorgeous opening up around two fingers, and also be able to rip a door off its hinges with one hand. He’s long since accepted it as one of those things that just _was._ When Gladio ruts down on him, pushing back against his hand and exhaling raggedly, Ignis doesn’t think for a while. 

“Yeah, thanks Iggy,” Noctis agrees, who had since moved behind Gladio and was now pressing kisses to his shoulder. “Gods, if I had to take one more night of fondling in that fucking tent…” 

Gladio grins, because that was definitely him. Their prince is insatiable at the best of times, and getting him all hot and bothered and then _stopping_ , right as he reached his peak with the whispered excuse of “We can’t wake up Prompto,” never, ever got old. Plus, he thought, as Noct shoved his fingers away and replaced them with his tongue, it got him this reaction. 

“Fuck,” he hisses, back bowing as Noctis did his level best to fuck Gladio on his tongue. Given the sounds coming from the Shield’s mouth, he was doing a pretty good job. Trailing fingers up his sculpted chest, Ignis takes a moment to savor the view of Gladio above him, hair down and tattoo stark against flushed skin, eyes half-lidded and mouth kiss-slick. Strangers would look at the King’s Shield, all exposed muscle and hard eyes, and make the assumption that he was the most unfeeling out of all of them. 

Ignis and Noctis knew better. And, at this point, Prompto did too. 

He’s shot from his reverie as a tight heat envelopes the head of his cock, and he lets out a broken moan. From above him, Gladio chuckles, and Nocts pets around where they’re connected with a grin. 

“You weren’t paying attention.” 

Gladio’s hoarse laugh morphs into a broken groan as he sinks down a little further, and one that’s echoed by his two partners. 

Thus, they don’t notice the sound of the key in the lock until it’s too late, and the door swings open with a _BANG._

All movement on the bed is utterly ceased, its occupants frozen in place as they watch a couple smush themselves against the door, mouths open and moving against one another in a heated tangle. 

_What the Six-loving fuck,_ was the only thought Ignis was capable of putting together. 

He would know that shock of gold hair anywhere, even sex-ruffled and dishevelled, but the woman’s back is to the still-open door and is only visible by a pair of slim legs and grasping hands. He doesn’t need to see her face to know if she’s enjoying it; whatever Prompto’s currently doing with his mouth- and the high-pitched, desperate whimpers that are being elicited- say enough. 

With an aborted movement, he tugs her back and lets the door slam shut, wasting no time before pushing her back against it and following.

The leg he shoves between her own incites a muffled moan, one that increases in pitch as he _grinds_ it into her center, both of them moving as if there are no clothes between them and a horizontal surface at hand. As he gives another rough thrust, the woman tips her head forward and- 

_Ah,_ Ignis thinks distantly, in the part of his brain that’s still functioning. _I understand._

Noctis looks like a particularly gutted deer in the headlights as Doctor Sania Yeagre whimpers, hoisting one leg over Prompto’s hip and grinding desperately upwards. And then, and _then._ Prompto lets out a sound, muffled but clear nonetheless, and Ignis isn’t quite sure he heard right. 

But no, the sound that came out of Prompto’s mouth was undeniably a _growl._ He grips Sania tighter and fucks against her center with uncharacteristic confidence, and Ignis is harder than he’s ever been in his life. 

It’s entirely inappropriate, because when one of their friends bursts into their room completely unannounced, dry-humping their _other_ acquaintance to kingdom come, he should be losing his erection. 

And apparently he’s not the only one, because Gladio chooses that moment to snap out of his slack-jawed stupor and rear back. Normally this wouldn’t be a problem as Gladio’s reflexes are excellent, but at this moment _excellent_ means that he must shift his weight back to regain balance, and- 

-sink down the rest of the way onto Ignis’ hard, aching cock, letting out the loudest moan Ignis has heard from him in quite a long time. 

The room stops. Everything stops. 

Prompto goes rigid, and if Noctis could tense anymore he would become a string instrument. Sania, meanwhile, peeks a flushed face over Prompto’s shoulder and blinks. 

“Oh, my. I think we might’ve gone to the wrong room.” 

It’s telling that the only response Ignis can think of is, _No shit._

Noctis is sprawled halfway across the bed, shirt long gone and pants shoved down to his thighs, lube and whatever else dripping down his chin. Gladio is completely bare, mounted fully atop an also-naked Ignis, and all of them are covered in sweat and Ifrit knows what else. 

Ignis is not one who usually allows their emotions to be written plainly across their face, however- if he gets any more red, he’s liable to resemble Noctis, who resembles an overripe tomato. Gladio merely has a bit of pink splashed across his cheekbones from the effort of staying still, and looks as if he wants the ground to swallow him up whole. 

Ignis can relate. 

Prompto, in contrast, is practically white. Turning robotically, he stares at the floor with the coldest expression Ignis has ever seen upon his normally-open features. 

“Prompto-” Ignis starts, clearing his throat as his voice breaks a little. “Why, exactly, are you here?”

And the dam breaks. 

“I-I am _so_ sorry,” Prompto blurts, moving away from Sania and towards the open door. “I- _this is all my fault,_ I’m so sorry, I don’t know- I j-just used the key-” Prompto keeps talking, but there was something about that last statement- 

Wait. 

“Noctis, did you tell Prompto that his room was number 32?” 

The prince blinks, as if just returning to this plane of existence. “Uh, I- um…” he takes a moment, brow furrowed, and pales so fast that Ignis is mildly worried about his blood flow. “N-no? I thought he was in 33?” 

Gladio groans, the only _other_ sound he’s made during this whole debacle, and rolls off of Ignis. 

“Godsdamn it, Noct.” 

“ _I wasn't paying attention-”_

“Yeah no shit, and look how that turned out-” 

“ _Noctis,”_ he says very calmly, and whatever is on his face must be telling because the prince flinches back and struggles to yank up his pants. 

“Prom, this is completely my fault, I am _so-_ ” 

“NO.” 

Noct startles, not expecting the strength of the response. Looking pained, Prompto grits his teeth and lowers his voice. “No, this is- I’m the one at fault. I shouldn’t’a interrupted you guys, and I-” 

His voice cracks, and with a swell of panic Ignis realizes that Prompto’s _crying_. 

He sits up, and gently covers himself and Gladio. 

“Prompto, this was entirely an accident of circumstance. We’re in no way angry, so please don’t feel like you have to apologize.” 

Noctis nods profusely, looking like he wants to move forward but thinking better of it. Gladio sits up as well, and scratches his beard tiredly. 

“It was an accident, Prom. We know that, she knows that,” and at the mention of Sania, Prompto’s face regains its heat, “-And if it weren’t for this knucklehead, it never would’ve happened. So don’t worry about it.” He sends a dirty look to Noctis, who winces. 

Ignis would defend his prince, if it were not entirely his fault. 

Upon further notice, Sania’s gone- apparently having seen a chance to leave without making this even more of a clusterfuck, and taking it. Ignis resolutely decides that they’ll dig for whatever frogs she needs, so long as this incident never sees the light of day. 

“Hey,” Noctis reaches for Prompto, but the man almost falls over himself in an effort to get away. The sympathy on Noct’s face twists into hurt. 

“Prom,” he says, and now  _ his _ voice chokes up with emotion, “We’re really sorry.” 

Almost as though surprised at the truth laid bare, Prompto doesn’t move away when he steps closer.

“We didn’t want to mess with your head too much or make it weird, but-” he huffs dryly. “That boat’s pretty much across the world at this point.” 

Prompto sniffles, and now looks each of them in the eye. “I just- I promised myself that I’d never get between you guys. And now… ” 

“It’s cool, Prom. We’re not mad, right?” At affirming noises from Ignis and Gladio, he continues. “See? No harm done. We can just… forget this ever happened.” 

Prompto nods so hard his neck creaks, and Noctis pulls a smile from somewhere, even if he still looks like the better part of a strawberry.    
He holds out a fist. “We’re cool?” 

After some hesitation, Prompto returns it. 

“A-alright, I’m gonna… go,” he makes awkward hand gestures towards the hallway, but Ignis holds out a hand.    
“Wait. You’ll need the right key to get into your room, because  _ someone _ ,” and at this, he glares at Noct, “Gave you the wrong one.” 

After some trial and error, Prompto darts out with the correct key in hand. The door closes with a final  _ snick _ , and the room is enveloped in silence. 

“What the fuck,” Gladio blurts, and Noctis lets out a tortured groan. “Oh my  _ gods, _ he and Sania- they-” 

“It was… a bit of a shock,” Ignis allows. 

Noct shoots him a bewildered glare. “A ‘bit of a shock’? Specs, a ‘bit of a shock’ is getting caught by a pack of voretooth,  _ not  _ seeing your best friend of five years fucking someone  _ into the wall!”  _

“I wondered why he was so interested in catching frogs,” Ignis says mildly. 

The room is quiet. 

“Oh, he definitely caught a frog all right-” 

“GLADIO!” Noctis screeches, face gone beet red as he does his level best to smother his Shield with a pillow. 

Ignis sighs, but makes no move to intercept the tussle. He debates saying something, wonders if it will push into unsafe territory, and decides to try. 

“That sound will haunt my dreams, I believe.” He doesn’t need to specify. 

Both of the other occupants pause in their impromptu pillow fight, letting the room fade into another pregnant pause. 

“Fuck, it was so hot,” Gladio mumbles around the pillow. 

“Damn it, man- that was what I was trying not to think about!”

“I take it you don’t have a gun in your pocket?” 

Gladio rumbles a chuckle. “He wants  _ someone’s _ gun in his pocket-” 

“Fucking- godsdamnit  _ fuck off, _ both of you.” 

Ignis smiles, leaning forward to trail fingers up Noctis’ arm, and whispers to Gladio. “Someone messed up tonight. Quite spectacularly, actually.”

“Oh?” And that was definitely a grin on his face. 

“Oh yes. And I believe that calls for a bit of punishment, hm?” 

“Guys,  _ ah- _ Prom’s right next door, are we seriously doing this after what just happened?” 

Gladio gives Ignis a look. 

The matter has been resolved, and anything that may have been uncovered could be dealt with later. 

“Yes,” he answers promptly, and that’s that. 

The next day, true to their word, no one says a thing. Prompto continues on as if it never happened, almost  _ too _ cheerful in comparison to last night’s events. 

Even so, on the rare occasions they’re able to get separate rooms the keys are always triple-checked, and he doesn’t search for frogs again unless they’re all asked to- even the photography camping breaks grow longer and more often. 

Other than that, the repercussions are few. Noctis can’t look Sania in the face for a week when they see her next, but curiously, neither can Prompto. 

And if all three of them flinch whenever Prompto lets out anything in the approximation of a growl, well. 

Denial is not simply a river in Egypt. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> everything has been pre-written so far, so it might take me a bit before chapter 3 arrives. this fic will not be given up on, I promise >:)


End file.
